


Remorse

by InkStainsOnMyHands



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Feelings Realization, Hospitalization, M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Illness, Shane has Antisocial Personality Disorder, Stigmatization of Mental Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14872937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkStainsOnMyHands/pseuds/InkStainsOnMyHands
Summary: As Shane's doctors attempt to diagnose the ailment causing his brutal headache, vomiting and seizures, a certain disorder of his comes to light, causing Ryan to question everything.





	Remorse

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is a vent fic. 
> 
> Now, you've read the tags, and I'm sure there will be some outrage about this fic. I did not write this with the intention of demonizing mental illness. In fact, the intention was to do quite the opposite. In an attempt not to spoil you, please reserve judgement until after you've read the entire thing. 
> 
> Thanks.

Dr. Wilde put the phone back onto the receiver with a loud clatter. Hastily, she grabbed her smart phone from her lab coat pocket and opened the calendar application. With swift thumb strokes, she typed  _ Shane Madej - fMRI _ into the three o’clock slot for that day. In addition, she added a brief notation of the symptoms he had experienced to land him into the appointment: a sudden excruciating headache, vomiting, and a seizure upon being admitted into the hospital. 

 

A brief pang of sympathy hit her chest, only interrupted by the sudden giggling across the room. There, sitting at the conference table before his laptop computer, Dr. Phelps continued to watch compilations of scenes taken from Buzzfeed Unsolved, the prolific YouTube series their patient was a co-host of. 

 

“What’s up?” she asked, curiosity piqued. 

 

Dr. Phelps covered his mouth with his hand, wide, toothy grin barely concealed behind his thick fingers. “Heh, it’s nothing, just - I can see where his fans are coming from about him being a demon.” 

 

Unable to contain herself, Dr. Wilde stood from her seat at the small desk and made the strides to loom over her colleague’s shoulder. On the screen, Shane chuckled in response to his co-host’s whimpers and cries of fear. A cursory glance at the title of the video, “Shane Madej being a demon for five minutes straight”, caused her to shiver. 

 

No, this all had to be scripted. No way would someone torture their friend like this, nor would said friend sit devotedly at their hospital bedside should they have a habit of causing them this amount of pain. 

 

Dr. Wilde didn’t want to think about it. 

 

“Did you - uh - find anymore symptoms while you were at it?” she asked. 

 

Dr. Phelps shook his head; back to square one. 

 

* * *

 

_ Ryan Bergara, Ryan Bergara, Ryan Bergara _ , Dr. Wilde chanted inwardly to herself to the tune of her clicking high-heel shoes. The last thing she needed was to forget his name, and therefore lose her nerve to speak with him. 

 

In the visitors lounge, the doctor felt as if she were cornering him at the vending machine, stalking his well-built, muscle-bound back. Another pang of sympathy hit her when he visibly jumped after calling out his name. He whipped around to face her, wearing a deer-in-the-headlights look. 

 

“Sorry,” she apologized with a high-pitched tone. “I just wanted to ask a few questions before we did Shane’s MRI.” 

 

Ryan nodded wordlessly. 

 

“One of the things we test for is the brain’s response to emotions. I just wanted to get some ideas from you as to what his likes and dislikes are.” 

 

Ryan’s eyes glanced away. A small laugh danced upon his lips. “Um, he definitely likes popcorn, hot dogs, weird indie music, and uh, ribbing me, for sure.” 

 

Dr. Wilde, despite herself, felt the corners of her mouth stretch into a smile. The fondness in Ryan’s soft voice and gaze was enough to fill her chest with the lightest air. It wasn’t often she saw friends this close. Hell, it wasn’t often she saw lovers this close. The part of her brain that was prone to suspicion screamed that there was something more going on between them, but that was a thought for a different time.  

 

“Thanks, that’s exactly what I needed.” 

 

* * *

 

Dr. Wilde pressed the button beside her monitor which activated the room’s audio equipment. Immediately, she flinched as the loud thudding of the MRI machine, set just beyond the glass pane of the command center, echoed throughout the room. Ugh! It was positively torturous, and she didn’t even have to hear the brunt of it. She had no idea how her patients handled it. 

 

Dr. Wilde leaned forward, towards the receiver of the craning gooseneck microphone. “Hey Shane, I want you to answer the questions I’m about to ask, just like we discussed,” she announced, voice sterile, clinical. 

 

“Go for it,” he responded after a brief moment. 

 

“Alright, what do you think of Ryan Bergara?” 

* * *

  
  


“Interesting.” 

 

Seated at the shared table, Dr. Laurie used his index finger to swipe through the images garnered by Shane’s fMRI on his tablet computer. Dr. Wilde, Dr. Phelps and Dr. Spencer crowded behind him in an effort to also examine the results, not that Dr. Laurie made it easy for them. 

 

“His language center lights up like a Christmas Tree, but his emotional center hardly registers,” Dr. Wilde suggested while pointing to the hues of reds and blues splotched over the greyscale image of their patient’s brain. “The only time I got an emotional response was when I asked about Ryan.” 

 

Dr. Laurie threw Dr. Wilde a glance. “Who?” he asked, voice pitched just as highly as his eyebrow. 

 

“His friend,” she replied with a nod. 

 

Dr. Laurie put his attention back onto the results. “Interesting,” he repeated. “Unless they’re fucking?” 

 

Dr. Wilde was taken aback, so much so that she took a step away. “I d-don’t…” she stammered. 

 

“Let’s ask!” 

* * *

 

Despite Dr. Wilde’s protests to the contrary, their entire team stormed out of the conference room and down the hall towards Shane’s room. 

 

The automatic door hissed open, and the quad of doctors were instantly greeted by intense bouts of laughter. Mirth lit both of their faces, stuffed to the brim with kernels of popcorn. Their attention was so focused on each other that they hardly noticed the strangers that suddenly filled their room. 

 

Once their ruckus died down by a small margin, Dr. Laurie asked, point-blank, “So, how long have you guys been sleeping together?” 

 

Once again, the two erupted into laughter. 

 

“Don’t believe the fanfiction, it’s all bogus,” Ryan said through intermittent enhales of breath. 

 

Dr. Laurie remained stoic, cracking not so much as a crooked grin. “Shane has a highly-contagious STD,” he deadpanned. 

 

Ryan’s face paled. Any and all previous emotion drained from his visage. His hand shot out to take a quivering hold of Shane’s thin wrist. “Is he going to be okay?” 

 

“Damn,” Dr. Laurie said underneath his breath. “They’re not screwing.” 

 

Dr. Wilde glanced back at Ryan. With each passing moment, his expression grew more and more  rigid. Still, his grip did not falter. In fact, it grew tighter. 

 

“Ryan, would it be okay if we spoke to Shane privately?” Dr. Wilde suggested. 

 

Ryan opened his mouth, but before a single sound could escape, Shane put his palm out to interrupt him. “I would much rather he stay, thank you,” Shane insisted, voice tight. 

 

Shane’s eyes narrowed towards the four doctors, and Dr. Wilde felt a shiver crawl down her spine. Though his brow only lowered minutely, it felt as if she were staring down the gaze of a predator. She gulped down the lump in her throat. 

 

“Fine,” Dr. Laurie sighed, obviously defeated. “How long have you been a sociopath?” 

 

For several pounding heartbeats, the room grew silent, for the exception of the sitcom quietly playing in the background. Tension filled the space like a thick fog, making the air difficult to breath. Dr. Wilde shifted, her legs urging her to run out of the room, and only the power of her will kept in her in place as they all waited for Shane to react. 

 

Instead, Ryan snorted. “You’re kidding right? Shane might seem -” 

 

“I was diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder at eighteen, but I’ve been in therapy since I was twelve, and on Dilantin since I was fifteen,” Shane interrupted; he hadn’t so much as flinched, and yet, Ryan’s mouth fell to his chin, his wide eyes focused intently on his friend. “Do you think that has something to do with my illness?” 

 

“It could,” Dr. Wilde answered quietly. “I-if there is something affecting the part of your brain that processes emotion, it could definitely cause your physical symptoms as well.” 

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ryan asked, his question barely above a whisper. 

 

Shane turned his head to return Ryan’s gaze. “I had no reason to.” 

 

* * *

 

Dr. Wilde ran to Shane’s room; the page from his nurse was alarming, but it was no cause to call security quite yet. Not that it would give her pleasure to see Ryan escorted out of the building. Shane needed a friend while he was nearing death’s door. 

 

“Unsolved could be ruined if this gets out,” she heard Ryan shout from the hall. 

 

Dr. Wilde pushed passed the small crowd of nurses, who pretended to have their focus elsewhere, but were suspiciously congregated near the entrance of Shane’s room.

 

As the door hissed open, Shane’s cool voice reached Dr. Wilde. “I told you, I never lied to the audience.” 

 

“Yes, you did!” Ryan insisted, hands thrown in the air. He paced away from the bed to stand against the opposite wall. His chocolate brown eyes hardened into onyx.  “You weren’t braver than I was, you just couldn’t feel fear.” 

 

Shane scoffed from his bed. “What difference does it make? Bravery and incapability of fear are almost exactly the same!”

 

Ryan’s mouth tightened. “What difference -? It makes a difference to me!”  

 

Shane adjusted his back onto the bed. After focusing his hazel eyes on the curtains of his window, Shane replied, “I don’t understand, Ryan.” 

 

Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. He, too, looked away from his best friend, staring at Dr. Wilde’s shoes. “It doesn’t exactly feel good to be manipulated,  _ Shane _ .” 

 

Shane turned his head back towards Ryan. “I never manipulated the audience, which has me questioning whether this is about the show  or about you?” 

 

Ryan did not respond. 

 

“Oh, I see,” Shane replied with a small, choked-off scoff. “I only steered you in those directions for the good of the show. I was trying to help you get everything you deserved after all that hard work. I had no bad intentions. I made sure no one got hurt, because I knew you wouldn’t want that..” 

 

Ryan whipped his head to face Shane. He threw his hands up in the air again. “You know what? Fine! Great! You helped the show.” He shook his head and, once again, crossed his arms. “It still kinda sucks knowing my best friend would sell me out in a second and never feel bad about it for the  _ good of the show _ .” 

 

Shane cocked his head, narrowed his eyes, and hung his mouth. “Just because I’m capable of that doesn’t mean I would.” 

 

Ryan leaned forward onto his wrists. “You already have! Locking me in dark rooms and keeping me in there for longer than we agreed for shits and giggles is selling me out!” he shouted; Shane appeared as though he had been slapped. Under his breath, Ryan added, “I always thought you would know the limit.” 

 

“I do, Ryan,” Shane insisted, voice as small as a mouse. 

 

“How?” Ryan snapped. “How do I know you’re not just going to abandon me? How do I know you’re not just going to let me have a psychic break and throw me away when I’m not fun to play with anymore?”

 

“I wouldn’t do that.”’

 

“Why!?” 

 

“BECAUSE I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU ASSHOLE!” Shane shouted. 

 

Ryan gasped before pivoting and his heel and running away from the room. 

 

* * *

 

Shane’s second MRI was in search for a small, nearly undetectable tumor, though Dr. Wilde knew that Dr. Laurie would rather crack open his skull to find it than spend the time searching through images, Shane’s well-being be damned. 

 

After several minutes of boredom, Dr. Laurie’s hand shot to the button near the monitor to activate the audio equipment, and Dr. Wilde flinched for both the sound and the impending slew of words that were to come out of his mouth. 

 

“So, when you watch horror movies, do you root for the ghosts?” Dr. Laurie asked, snide tone miring his question in obvious sarcasm. 

 

“Dr. Laurie, how’s it going?” Shane responded, just as disparaging, tone exaggerated with a faux sense of excitement. 

 

“Do you actually care?” The doctor quipped back. 

 

“You know I don’t,” Shane chuckled. “Just like you don’t care about my health, you’re just interested in the puzzle, am I right?” 

 

“Yeah, well, at least I was born with a conscience,” Dr. Laurie responded as though he were a kindergartener arguing with a classmate. 

 

“Were you? Because you have a dangerous disregard for other people’s feelings.” 

 

“At least I have the decency to feel bad about it.” 

 

Shane gave a bellowing laugh. “So, what’s worse? Having a conscience and not following it? Or recognizing right from wrong without one, and usually choosing the better outcome?” 

 

Dr. Laurie left the room without giving Shane an answer. 

* * *

  
  


Dr. Wilde nearly jumped when she saw Ryan sitting in a booth within the hospital’s cafeteria. It was as if she were seeing a ghost! She thought she would never see Ryan again, let alone within the hospital after the previous day’s incident. 

 

Without much thought, the doctor made quick steps towards Ryan’s table. Once she made it to his side, she caught his attention with a small cough. As soon as he glanced in her direction, she asked, “Can I sit here?” 

 

Ryan smiled. “Yeah sure, I’d love the company.” 

 

Dr. Wilde set her tray on the opposite side of the booth from Ryan and sat down. “I’m really surprised to see you here.” 

 

Ryan shrugged. Still, his eyes grew glossy and his bottom lip quivered. “He’s still my friend, even if - I don’t know.” 

 

“What don’t you know?” she asked gently. 

 

Ryan pawed at his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. “Why he would lie to me about something like that. Why would he say he was in love with me?” 

 

Dr. Wilde pursed her lips. She’s been there before, during her psychiatric rotation. After a diagnosis, many family members and friends question the feelings and motives of their loved ones, as if they had changed due to their mental illness. 

 

An internal war raged within herself. Shane was not lying, but she couldn’t exactly give Ryan the fMRI results to prove it without Shane’s explicit permission. 

 

Instead, she said, “I can’t tell you why, but I know for a fact he’s not lying.” 

 

“But what if he’s just saying that so I’ll keep him on the show?” Ryan asked quickly, before hastily adding,“Not that, you know, I would kick him out or anything.” 

 

“Think about his motives,” Dr. Wilde suggested gently in an attempt to soothe the paranoid creature prowling inside Ryan’s brain. “What purpose would lying about his feelings serve? He has no guarantees that you feel the same. Do you think he would really gamble away his chances with you for that?” 

 

Ryan bit at his thumb, his eyes glancing away as he chewed on the dead skin. 

* * *

Eventually, Shane’s medical team discovered that his physical ailment had very little to do with his mental illness. It was as simple as a spider bite reeking havoc on his body.  Due to Shane’s weak perception of pain, he hadn’t felt the fangs dig into his skin, releasing its venom. Luckily, all that was needed was a little antivenom, and Shane was released back to the custody of his friend. 

Dr. Wilde watched as Ryan pushed Shane’s wheelchair, only pausing to kiss the man on the cheek. 


End file.
